Fine Feathers Make Fine Birds
by dreamflower02
Summary: Sam's friend Robin Smallburrow becomes a shirriff. (Written in March 2012 for "Back to Middle-earth Month") Book-verse; one-shot; character study.


(Written in March 2012 for "Back to Middle-earth Month")

 **B2MeM Challenge:** Shirish: B-7, _shirriff_ , "a feather in your cap"  
 **Format:** Ficlet  
 **Title:** Fine Feathers Make Fine Birds  
 **Genre:** Character Study, Gapfiller  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Warnings:** N /A  
 **Characters:** Robin Smallburrow, Sam Gamgee, Tom Cotton, Merry Brandybuck  
 **Pairings:** N/A  
 **Summary:** Robin Smallburrow becomes a shirriff.

 **Fine Feathers Make Fine Birds**

Sam patted his friend on the shoulder. "Are you nervous, Rob?"

Robin Smallburrow gave a miserable nod. "Aye, I am that nervous, Sam, my palms are sweating."

Tom Cotton, on his other side, gave a chuckle. "You'd think you were going a-courting, Rob, instead of just going for shirriff."

Rob turned to him, his eyes wide. " _Just_ going for a shirriff? It's only what I've wanted to do since I were a _faunt_! To go about the Shire, helping folks out, with a fine feather in my cap!"

"Well," said Tom, with a teasing glint in his eye, "I can help folks out here at home, and with a mort less walking!"

Sam chuckled. "Someone might think you were lazy, talking like that, Tom Cotton! You better not let the Gaffer hear you. He might think twice about you courting my baby sister!" Truthfully, Sam knew Tom didn't have a lazy bone in his body, but it was fun to see him blush.

"I've been waiting so long," said Robin earnestly. "With only three to Shirriffs to a Farthing, a post don't come open too often."

Sam slapped his hand on Robin's shoulder. "Yes, but you've volunteered to help ever since you was a tween. Now that Old Matty Puddifoot is ready to retire his spot as the head of the Westfarthing patrol, you'll be the natural pick to fill the last position." Sam kept his mouth shut about the fact that no one else was interested. Who'd want to spend so much time away from home? But he knew how important this was to Robin.

Robin nodded, and then stiffened up as Merry Brandybuck came his way- he knew Merry, who was a frequent visitor to Hobbiton where he came to spend time with his cousin Frodo- but Merry was gentry, and made Robin more than a little nervous.

"Uncle Paladin and Mayor Whitfoot are having a little word as to who will be head of the Westfarthing patrol. Carl Twofoot and Ruddy Sandybanks both started around the same time; but I'm pretty sure the Mayor is going to choose Carl- he's lived in Hobbiton all his life, and Ruddy only moved here twenty years ago."

Sam looked at Robin's anxious face- he could tell that Robin was dying to ask about the junior position, but didn't dare. "Mr. Merry? Any idea if they've decided about the last place?"

Merry chuckled. "Well, it _won't_ be Pippin. He's still not of age yet, and even though Uncle Paladin at one time thought it might be a good way to get some of the Took restlessness out of him, after that trick he tried to pull with that minstrel a couple of years back, he won't dare let Pippin roam so close to the Bounds."

Merry glanced at Robin. It wasn't his place to say anything; that was up to the Mayor- even more than to the Thain, although it was the sort of thing the two of them consulted on. But he allowed himself a hint of a smile- perhaps that would be clue enough for Sam's friend.

The younger hobbits observed the group standing next to the Shirriff-bell. The Mayor reached out and clasped Carl's hand first, and the other hobbit at his side clapped Carl's shoulder in agreement. Carl nodded, and then the older hobbits looked up the hill to the waiting young ones. Carl strode up to them.

"Robin?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you still of a mind to be a shirriff?"

Robin's round face split into a joyful grin. "Am I, sir? Oh yes, sir!"

Carl nodded, smiling back at him. "Report to the Post Office tomorrow at eight o' clock, then, and get your feather! I know you'll work hard, Robin, and make a very good shirriff!"

Robin waited until Carl had strode away before leaping into the air, pumping his fist, and shouting "Yes!"

Sam, Tom and Merry all grinned at him, Sam giving him a slap on the back, and Tom a quick hug. Merry stood back, knowing such attentions from him would be embarrassing, but he said: "How about a visit to the _Green Dragon_? I'll stand a round of drinks to celebrate!"

And so it was, though his friends made sure he did not have so many beers that he'd be miserable in the morning.

Robin Smallburrow wandered home under the stars that night, knowing he'd never regret becoming a Shirriff...


End file.
